


Caught In Translation

by bummerang



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Misunderstandings, Prank gone too far, awkward dorks, one is worse than the other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-03 22:12:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13350558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bummerang/pseuds/bummerang
Summary: Tai and Summer aren't as insufferable about it as he expected. Instead, it's the kids who take charge like the nosy little hellions they are, telling him things like 'don't get flowers, he's allergic to everything outside' and 'he likes books, get him a book, but not oneyou'dread, okay?' and that's sort of insulting but also one hundred percent true, so he can't argue with it.Not that he has reason to argue with it. He isn't going to do anything. Ever.(Qrow meets a stranger who doesn't speak English and immediately falls for him. What else is new?)





	Caught In Translation

Qrow was something of a hazard for the five blocks it took him and Summer to get back to her apartment building—what with the full bags of groceries he had in each arm fully blocking his view and Zwei constantly trying to get underfoot, the loop of his leash tightened around Qrow's palm. Summer guided him down the street like a mule, hand clutched on the sleeve of his jacket, narrating to him the sights in her best excruciatingly-chipper-tour-guide voice.

“And here we are, standing in the luxuriously-furnished lobby in the complex on Fifth and Greene, waiting for the elevator.”

“Summer,” he said piteously into the paper bags, “I love you, you know I do, but please shut the fuck up. My headache's about to implode.”

“Hey, you rarely exist before two in the afternoon. I'm gonna take advantage of it.”

“By killing me with your voice?”

“It's not a bad way to go.”

He couldn't see the arrow light up, but he heard the telltale 'ding' that signified the imminent relief of his arms. “It's the worst,” he said, stepping up when he heard the doors open with a low rumble. “Why the hell would I wanna—“

He tripped. In that instant of pure terror as he pitched forth, all he could think about was how he really didn't want to smash the tomatoes—

He felt something—someone—reach around him, hands catching him by the elbows as they rocked in place, saving him and the groceries. Heart still pounding a little quickly, he looked up. The bags obscured most of his rescuer's face, except for a disheveled mop of gray hair and a pair of wide brown eyes.

_Holy shit, this fucker's tall._

“Hey, sorry,” he said, as the stranger helped him get upright again. “Forgot the elevator's kind of a piece of shit.” He'd had nine years to get used to this dumpy-ass building with it's rickety elevator that didn't even have the decency to line up properly with the ground floor—and of course he still forgot.

Then he winced, and was about to apologize for saying 'piece of shit' when the stranger smiled—amused, easy, eyes warm and crinkled at the corners—and Qrow completely forgot everything for about two seconds.

“Wow, you all right?” Summer said, peeking around his shoulder. She seemed to light up in recognition at the sight of the stranger—some neighbor, probably, then—and then said—

Well. Qrow didn't know. Definitely something in Mandarin, though.

The stranger blinked at her for a moment and then muttered his response with a slight smile. Summer nodded, planting a hand on the small of Qrow's back and ushering him in while she pressed the button for their floor and started speaking at length, rapid and questioning. It continued that way for some time, Summer leading the conversation and the stranger giving short, almost taciturn replies. Qrow glanced at him from time to time, but he didn't seem uncomfortable, exactly. Maybe he was just lost in Summer's enthusiasm. Qrow couldn't blame him for that.

At some point, Qrow assumed they were talking about him. Probably. He thought he might have been able to make out the words 'friend' and 'uncle' somewhere in there, but for all he knew they could have been talking about the groceries. He'd never been any good at languages, not like Summer, who absorbed them like some kind of linguistic sponge. English was enough of a fucking trip.

Qrow waited until there was a lapse in the conversation before leaning close to Summer and not-quite-whispering, “Your friend's pretty hot.”

Summer turned to him slowly, eyes wide as saucers. Her stare was so startled and focused that Qrow wondered if she was judging him. Like anyone who chose to wake up to Tai's face had any room to talk.

“What? He's got that kinda book nerdy thing going on. And if he took off his glasses, holy fuck I bet you—“

Summer abruptly turned to the stranger and spoke quickly, a strained kind of grimace on her face, and the stranger—choked? He _did_ look, then, but the stranger's expression was completely placid. Suspiciously so.

Qrow gaped at Summer in disbelief. “Fucking—did you just translate that?”

Her look could have withered the tomatoes, and probably reached the mushrooms at the bottom. “I said you said you were sorry again for falling on him.”

“No way you did.”

“Just shut up for a minute.”

They got off on the fifth floor, where Summer and the stranger said their farewells. When Qrow heard the elevator doors close again, Summer turned to him, instantly going from friendly to pure incredulity. “Really? You couldn't have waited?” She sighed as she grabbed his sleeve and started leading him down the hall. “People can tell when you're talking about them, Qrow. I had to make something up.”

“It's not like he even understood me.”

“Even so. You freaked _me_ out.” He heard her fishing around for the keys, change jingling in her pockets. “So,” and he heard the smile rise in her voice. _Finally._ “You think he's hot, huh?”

Qrow shrugged, incidentally shrugging the bags, too. “I have a type, and that type is tall and pretty. And since he knows you, he can't be a dumbass, right? And I could get the hang of the language thing.” He could feel her skepticism flowing out in waves. “Okay, maybe not. But there are like a hundred translation apps.”

“Qrow, have you ever used one?” she said, sounding appalled.

“Whatever, it doesn't matter anyway.” He heard her kick the door open, felt her grab his sleeve again.

“What do you mean?”

“Just 'cause he's probably my type doesn't mean I'm his.” He set the bags on the table a little more heavily than he'd intended. “I'm nobody's type.”

When he looked up again, he was a little caught in the frown she was giving him, her silver eyes brightened by the white afternoon light filtering through the kitchen window. “Qrow.” And there was a lot in there. She had a way of looking through him that was sometimes a little unbearable.

Then she handed him a knife and a bag of tomatoes.

“You'll feel better after chopping these. I need eight for the soup.”

He laughed, but she was right.

\---

Like most things that didn't immediately demand his attention, he forgot all about it over the next few days. Juggling work during the day, AA meetings at the end of the week, and his nieces every other night were more than enough of any kind of excitement in his life right now.

So then, of course, the next time he chose to take the elevator, the doors opened up and he found himself face to face with the last kind of excitement he needed.

He did not say 'oh shit' aloud because he was relatively certain that cursing transcended language barriers. Instead, he simply allowed the panicked litany free reign in his head as he stepped in and waved a little like a goddamn idiot. Fortunately, the stranger waved back.

Qrow refused to think of him as anything but 'the stranger'. Summer hadn't given a name and Qrow didn't want to draw even more attention asking for it, and all there was to go on was that he was nice, spoke really quietly, wore glasses—and apparently carried a badass-looking walking stick. The kind that looked like it was hiding an equally badass sword.

He hadn't realized how much he'd missed the first time around with an obstructed view. Standing next to the stranger now, he could see the way he favored his right leg, leaning slightly to the left on his cane. And he really was very tall. Spending most of his life with James had sort of numbed Qrow to the height difference, but where James was something like a wall, this guy was a human pole. Qrow was even standing as far into the corner as he could squish himself and he still had to look slightly up.

Which was when the stranger glanced up from his phone, turning his gaze to Qrow. _Oh fuck all_ —Qrow jerked his head around so quickly he smacked his face into the wall. Audibly.

“Um.”

Qrow reluctantly turned back at the sound, finding the stranger had moved off the wall and was looking at him with concern.

“I'm okay,” he said, feeling the heat rise in his face. Then he added under his breath, “Just my pride.”

The stranger didn't look convinced and looked like he was about to say something, but the elevator sounded as it arrived on the ground floor and Qrow hurried the fuck out of there with a hasty 'see you around'. His internal moaning became external after he rounded the block, burying his face in his hands.

\---

“Hey, that guy with the gray hair, he been living here long?”

Tai glanced at him briefly before turning back to the pan. “Moved in a few weeks ago. He's an old friend of Summer's from uni. He wanted to live somewhere closer to the city and 511 happened to open up.”

“Oh.”

“Please don't scare him away.”

Qrow spluttered into his coffee. “What the—why?”

“Because he's a good guy, and I'm hoping Summer can convince him to do some babysitting sometimes in exchange for, like, all the food. The kids like him and he likes them.”

“I meant why would you think I'd scare him off, asshole.” Qrow frowned. “Also, I babysit.”

Tai smiled as he plated the toast. “You also live way across the city. We know it's a lot to ask.”

“I don't mind.”

“I know you don't. Think of it as divvying up the work, then. Take some time for yourself.”

Qrow and time were a notoriously bad combination, but Tai meant well. “You still haven't answered the other one.”

“502 moved out because of you.”

Oh, _come on._ “502 moved out 'cause he was offended by my tattoos. What the fuck, seriously? His head was so far up his ass—“

“And Summer and I heard that you hit your head in the elevator.”

“—sun fucking started shining—wait, what?”

“He was worried about you so he came asking,” Tai said, raising an eyebrow, a little smirk playing over his lips. “He said it sounded like you hit it quite hard.”

“Uh.” No, his face wasn't heating up, no way, he _refused_. What the hell was even up with his face lately?

“Oh, shit, I thought Summer was joking. You really do—“

Qrow bolted, and vengefully took all the toast with him.

\---

He would have stayed far away from the terrifying household—but honestly, how could he _really?_

Tai and Summer weren't as insufferable about it as he'd expected. Instead, it was the kids who took charge like the nosy little hellions they were, telling him things like 'don't get flowers, he's allergic to everything outside' and 'he likes books, get him a book, but not one _you'd_ read, okay?' and that was sort of insulting but also one hundred percent true, so he couldn't argue with it.

Not that he had reason to argue with it. He wasn't going to do anything. Ever.

But it was hard when he had to convince himself every time he went into that elevator and happened upon 511 there, leaning on his cane and looking up from his phone, breaking into a warm smile and a shy little wave when he saw that it was Qrow.

Fuck. What was he supposed to _do_ with that?

Qrow could have taken the stairs and avoided all of this like the useless shit that he was. He knew that.

But.

Well.

The first time they met after the head banging incident, 511 had practically jumped off the wall, looking kinda harried, opening and closing his mouth like he wanted to say something but couldn't manage the words. He had pointed at Qrow's face and gestured to his own cheek, furrowing his brow—and Qrow had waved it off carefully, surprised _(pleasantly, oh god)_ that 511 would care so much. And that might have been the end of it, but Qrow had caught a glimpse of the video 511 had been watching on his phone, realizing with a start that he recognized it—and after three seconds of some intense internal debating where he finally strangled his good sense, he pulled out his own phone to show 511 the followup to that video. Because tiny kittens also transcended language.

511 had a nice laugh. Quiet, like maybe he was afraid of going over a certain decibel, but Qrow liked the sound of it. And, against his better judgement, found himself trying to find more dumb shit things to induce it. He'd started keeping open tabs of videos and pictures for the next time they'd meet—and was surprised when 511 did the same.

Sometimes, they lingered a while in the elevator just sliding through videos, huddled as close as they could be to the screen without touching each other, but Qrow was always hyper aware of the other's warmth.

Summer always said that if it weren't for their mutual love of baby animal antics, then she and Qrow would never have spoken to each other. Qrow never thought he would ever be able to apply this elsewhere, and to someone that, technically, he wasn't really speaking to. Just sharing a laugh. A smile.

And sometimes when he glanced up, he'd catch a tinge of red over 511's cheeks, and Qrow wondered if maybe he wasn't alone in this.

\---

The next time he saw 511, he blurted out, very quickly, “Okay, this is gonna sound pretty bad, I'm not good at this kind of shit, okay, but—“ He took a breath and—

_“Nǐhuìhéwǒyīqǐchūqùma?”_

The look of wide-eyed shock that 511 gave him was the most discouraging thing, and Qrow was no stranger to discouragement. He felt his stomach plummet. “Oh, god, I said something weird,” he muttered. Maybe he said it too quickly. Maybe he fucked up the tones. He would have made a run for it by this point, but the doors were already closed, sealing him in his spectacular idiocy.

“Um.” 511 shifted, looking suddenly anxious, his grip on his cane white-knuckled and shaky. He kept his gaze fixed on the murky discolored tile beneath their feet. 

Oh, shit, he _did_ say something weird—

“You didn't,” 511 said quietly. “And it's not wrong. But it's very literal.”

Qrow blinked. He stared.

511 fidgeted.

Qrow felt something go cold inside him. And the odd thing was, he wasn't—surprised. Not exactly. He couldn't have known, how could he have known—but this was—it was just par for the course for him, wasn't it? This was how things always ended up, and any surprise or shock he could have felt about it was drowned in the usual cacophony of _of course, of course._

Inanely, Qrow realized that up until now, he'd never heard 511 speak so _clearly._ He'd been mumbling before, with Summer.

“You could speak English this whole time.”

A jerky nod.

“So you—you heard,” Qrow continued, flat and— _tired._ God, what did it matter? “You understood everything I said in the elevator that day. Am I getting this right?”

511 started off the wall. “I—“

“No.” He flinched, but Qrow didn't care. This wasn't—it just wasn't right. Weeks. Qrow had spent weeks freaking out over— _what?_ What was here? “I can get doing it at first. Fuck, I would have done it. I— _that's_ what Summer said to you, yeah? Something like 'don't give it away' or whatever? I mean. I'm not mad about that. I mean I am. I _am_ mad.” Or something. Disappointment, maybe. It sat in his gut like anger but there was something else about it; sharper, edged. “But I wouldn't be if you'd just said something after or—“ Qrow scrubbed at his face with a hand, took another breath, and tried again. “Why did—“

A high-pitched whine in the air cut him off, and Qrow realized with a sinking feeling in his gut that it had been there since the elevator started moving, just barely noticeable in the background.

And then—he felt, for just a single instant, almost weightless—like the ground was about to drop from beneath his feet—

—then the elevator suddenly lurched to a jarring halt, rocking him in one heaving movement up against the doors. 511 lost his balance and fell to his knees, where he buckled into a curled heap over his cane. It was over as soon as it started, but Qrow didn't dare move for several moments, just watching the lights flicker and spark off, listening to the sound of harsh breathing—

_Oh, fuck._ “Hey,” he said into the dark, fumbling with his phone as he turned on the flashlight. “You—“

511 wasn't okay. His breathing was shaky, uneven. When Qrow knelt down, he hesitated, then carefully brushed gray hair aside for a better look. His face was utterly white underneath, and his stare was glassy.

Qrow didn't know what to do, but there had to be something. He reached out haltingly toward 511's hand, uncertain if it was even all right to touch him while he was like this—

But 511 reached back, grabbing hold, making the decision for them. He shook with the effort. “Please,” he whispered, and that was all.

So Qrow tried to settle in, moving out until he was lying on his belly, propped up on one elbow and letting 511 grip the circulation out of his hand. The elevator was cramped, and they didn't have much space strewn on the floor together like this.

But it was just about the furthest thing from Qrow's mind.

Over the next few minutes, as Qrow called Tai and endured his terrified screeching, 511's breathing quieted and the shaking died down to a slight tremor. He answered clearly enough when Qrow asked him if he needed an ambulance, but his gaze was still a little distant.

“You were about to ask why I didn't just tell you the truth. Before.” His voice was hoarse and barely audible.

Qrow looked up from the message he was about to send Summer.

“I was interested in seeing how long it would keep up. But it seemed cruel to do so for too long, so I resolved to tell you the next time, but then you hit your head, and you left so quickly. I thought I'd done something.” His grip slackened, and then he slipped his hand out of Qrow's, resting his palm on the floor like he was bracing himself to sit up. “When I saw you the next time, I was—relieved. You seemed fine. And you started showing me videos and I thought, perhaps, one more time. Because it was nice.”

"Nice?" Qrow stared. “I don't get it.”

511 closed his eyes. “I believed that if I told you, you would certainly hate me, especially so late into it. And yes, I know, the longer I waited the worse it became. But I didn't realize—until you tried to ask me out, I thought you were only doing all of this to be nice.” There was a pause; waiting, fragile. “I liked you,” 511 said, cracked and soft. “I didn't think it was mutual. And for what it's worth, I'm sorry.”

_For what it's worth._ Qrow licked suddenly dry lips as he processed all of this. On one hand, what the fuck. _How_ could he not have realized it was mutual? Was Qrow truly this bad at flirting? Oh god, what if 511 hadn't recognized it because he _couldn't?_ On the other, he never thought the words 'I liked you' could hurt this damn much. There was a part of him that was screaming in confusion and another part that was on the hysterical spectrum of happiness, and yet another that was just plain _done_ because he'd fallen for a disaster. Of course he had, didn't they say disasters attract or whatever—

511, meanwhile, really was trying to sit up, but he was obviously still trembling from the pain in his leg and it just—it pissed off Qrow. So much.

“What fucking planet are you _from?_ ”

511 opened his eyes, startled. “What?”

“For the love of goddamn everything, _please_ stop that.” He took hold of 511's hand again and sort of pressed on his shoulder to keep him down because he still didn't know what was okay to touch, really.

“What are you doing?”

“Just. Don't move. You scare me.”

511's confusion was palpable. “What have I done now?”

“You said you liked me,” Qrow blurted.

“Yes?”

“Past tense.”

“I—yes?”

“Really?”

511's eyes widened. “Did you...not want it to be past tense?”

“Yeah. I think that would be pretty great. If you're okay with that.”

“But you're angry with me.”

“How the fuck am I supposed to be angry after _that_? You're—you're so ridiculous. And so am I. Look, we can be dumb together.” Qrow smiled crookedly. “And now I'm frustrated with you. Get with the program.”

“That's no better,” but 511 was smiling, too. Tentatively, but there.

Qrow was starting to understand a little more now. But there was time for that later.

“That is a hundred times better, and while we're stuck here let me tell you why...”

-

-

-

“Taiyang was rather insistent on teaching them, and your nieces wanted a fellow sufferer, you see.”

Qrow could. He adjusted the blankets over them and scooted closer. “So you don't actually speak Mandarin.”

“Not as much as I'd like. My mother quite despaired of me.” He kept shifting his leg, trying to find a better position for it, until Qrow asked him if he could try something. When he nodded, Qrow carefully pulled it up to rest on his own, holding it there with a hand behind his thigh. A blush tinged his face as he murmured his thanks. “That first day we met, Summer was trying to impress upon me the need to practice. For some time now, she has been speaking to me only in Mandarin and it honestly makes me want to cry.”

Qrow snickered.

"Was there anything else?"

“Just one thing. You haven't answered me yet.”

“Answered what?”

“Don't make me say it again,” Qrow begged. “I'll fuck it up and somehow Tai will hear about it and we'll both cry.”

“Ah." He frowned. "I've told you that question doesn't really mean what you think it means.”

“But it's answerable.” Qrow gently knocked their foreheads together, eliciting a laugh that, at one point during this night, he'd thought he wouldn't hear again.

“Yes.”

“Fuck yeah—wait, was that the answer or were you saying 'yes' that it's answerable—“

“Yes.”

“ _Come on,_ Oz—“

Long into the night, they spoke and laughed and curled together close, warmly tangled in the blankets. Qrow wondered at it all, that he'd somehow gotten here from one particular day in an elevator. He still couldn't believe it. Not that either of them were here, or that they would still be here in the morning. Or even that there was the possibility for many mornings to come, to share.

And, above all, Qrow was glad that there was a name, now.

 

-

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt taken and deviated from the second one in this tumblr [post](http://theappleppielifestyle.tumblr.com/post/118268956516/i-got-in-my-car-and-you-were-sleeping-in-the). This got away from me so radically. I'm sorry it's not as fun as the original. D:
> 
> Translation of Qrow's attempt:  
> Nǐ huì hé wǒ yī qǐ chū qù ma? -- Basically is 'will you go out with me?' but phrased this way the meaning is literal. More like 'are you willing to go outside with me?' Like to run errands.
> 
> I've never heard this used as a dating phrase, but I could be wrong? Growing up, I mostly heard indirect 'wanna get something to eat/wanna take a stroll' type stuff. Anything more direct was usually an example or slang.


End file.
